


That Creepy Kid

by brionylarkin



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Klaus meets a lot of people, M/M, creepy klaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brionylarkin/pseuds/brionylarkin
Summary: Klaus is creepy. He's always been creepy. Sometimes this helps people, sometimes it hurts them. Either way, Klaus meets a lot of people and has a huge effect on every single one of them.OR5 times Klaus is creepy without realizing, +1 time he admits it.
Relationships: Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Original Character(s)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 693





	That Creepy Kid

1

“Nanny?” Number Four tugs on her skirt and Alyssa looks down with a smile. The soon-to-be-four-year-old is just about the cutest thing she’s ever seen and she couldn’t be happier being his nanny. (There’s something about some of the other kids that she can’t get past—especially that Number Six. Creepy).

“Yes, Number Four?” Alyssa says, kneeling down to face him. They’re safely in Four’s room, so she can be affectionate without fearing for her job.

“What does ‘fucking’ mean?” he asks, innocently blinking up at her.

Alyssa rears back in surprise, mouth opening and closing. “Uh, where did you hear that word?”

“The man in the corner,” Four says with a sunny smile. 

Despite knowing that there’s no one in the room, Alyssa turns and checks every corner. “What man?”

“He’s always here, silly!” Four says, eyes sliding to the blocks in the corner as if losing interest in the conversation. “He talks to you all the time, but you don’t listen.”

Alyssa swallows, the whole situation feeling more like a horror movie than she’s comfortable with. “Wh-what does he say?”

“He wants to play with you!” Four chirps. “In a bed? He likes your neck and he really wants to squeeze it.” Four pauses and looks thoughtful. “I don’t know why.”

Alyssa can feel herself starting to hyperventilate. “What does this man look like?”

“He has brown hair and big red eyes,” says Four, glancing behind Alyssa. “He has a lot of red face paint, too.” 

Alyssa can practically feel the blood draining from her face, mind flashing back to memories of her long-dead ex-boyfriend who’d clawed his own eyes out in prison. How could Four know about him?

“I n-need to go check on something,” Alyssa says shakily, attempting a reassuring smile. Four frowns at her, but Alyssa ignores him, stumbling out of the room to lean against the wall outside. 

“Ah.” Alyssa looks up to see Dr. Pogo, the talking monkey, standing in front of her (and hadn't that been a surprise when she was hired two weeks ago—a talking monkey!)

“I see you’ve run into some of Number Four’s… peculiarities,” he says, looking sympathetic. “The last three nannies have had similar issues.”

Alyssa gapes at him. “How-How can he?”

Dr. Pogo leans his head down sadly. “Number Four possesses the ability to see spirits. I can assure you that whatever he was saying to you is absolute truth.”

Alyssa gasps, a shaking hand over her mouth. “Shit.”

Dr. Pogo’s lips thin. “Indeed.” 

Briefly, Alyssa considers what it will be like, having to come to work knowing her charge can see a deformed ghost that wants to hurt her. She imagines listening to him describe what the ghost says for the next few years, imagines how that will damage him. 

“Four doesn’t know what he’s saying,” she says, eyes filling with tears. “Poor thing. Does he see other ghosts?”

“The last woman who had your job,” Dr. Pogo starts. “She quit because Number Four would not stop describing the ways her family members have died.”

“God,” Alyssa runs her hand through her hair, biting her lip. “That’s horrifying.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Pogo says, pensive. He looks down at the ground in silence.

Alyssa hesitates, then asks. “Why didn’t you tell me when I took the job?”

Dr. Pogo sighs. “We tried that when his powers were first discovered, but the women almost always quit. One… one tried to drown Number Four in the bath.”

“Oh my god!” Horrified, Alyssa has to fight to keep her voice level. “I can’t-- how could she? He’s such a lovely child.”

Dr. Pogo looks down, face set in some unknown grief. “My understanding is that she was very religious.”

“What happened to her?”

“Master Hargreeves had her… taken care of,” Dr. Pogo says. He looks up at Alyssa. “You don’t need to worry about it, Miss Alyssa.”

“Okay?” Alyssa laughs awkwardly, trying to ignore those implications. “What should I do about Four?”

“Ah,” Dr. Pogo rubs his chin in thought. “That, I believe, is up to you. If his abilities make you uncomfortable, then we would never force you to remain.”

“What?” Alyssa puts her hands up, trying to explain herself. “No, I--” Her hands fall limply to her sides as Dr. Pogo simply walks away. 

She turns back towards Four’s room, a thought forming in her mind. Alyssa pushes the door open and immediately closes it behind her, rushing to kneel down in front of Number Four. 

“Sweetheart?” she says, heart nearly melting at the innocent look he gives her. 

“Yeah, ‘Lyssa?” He knocks over his pile of blocks. 

“What’s the man in the corner saying now?” she asks, internally cringing, but forcing herself to bring it up?” 

Four cocks his head and lets his eyes drift to the side of the room, eyes unfocusing slightly. Alyssa shivers, half convinced she can see her ex-boyfriend reflected in his eyes as the harsh light glints off of them.

Four turns towards her and he’s an ordinary little boy again. “He says he wants to rip your eyes out like he ripped his out.” 

Alyssa can’t help but flinch, the words somehow harsher coming out of the mouth of a four-year-old who doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

“What’s wrong, nanny?” Four asks. “What did the man do to his eyes? Is that why his face is red?” Alyssa can practically see the fear wash over her young charge’s face, tears budding in his eyes. “Nanny?”

Alyssa raises her arms to comfort him, but before she can, something has Four jerking backwards and screaming. He jumps up and flees to the back of the room where he crouches half behind his bed, still shrieking.

“Four?!” Alyssa hurries to him, placing her hand on his arm, but pulling back when it only makes him scream louder. “Four, please, you’re scaring me! What’s wrong?” 

Through his tears, she can barely make out the words “go away” and suddenly she knows what’s happening. 

“He can’t hurt you, Four, sweetheart, he’s not really here,” she says, voice thin. She looks around, desperate to find some sort of distraction. “He can’t touch you, sweetheart, it’s going to be okay.”

Four looks at her through his fingers, eyes bleary. “He c-can’t touch me?”

“He can’t touch you,” Alyssa says with no idea whether it’s true or not. Regardless, it works. Four uncurls from his crouch, still shaking, but somewhat calmer. He edges around something she can’t see and collapses into her arms. 

Alyssa sweeps him up and holds him close, letting his tears soak through the shoulder of her shirt. It’s only slightly concerning how quietly he cries.

“He can’t hurt you, sweetheart,” she murmurs almost unconsciously, running a hand up and down Four’s back. “You’re safe.”

Her affirmations help calm the boy down, but this belief will eventually be one of the things Four—now Klaus— curses the most. It just won’t be for a few decades yet.

2

Abby has seen a lot of quote-unquote “hopeless” cases. Usually, that’s code for “this teenager acts up because they have a horrible home life no one is willing to do anything about” or “this person has an untreated mental illness they can’t afford to treat.” It there’s anything she’s learned over her years as a counselor, it’s that no one is impossible to help if you can find a way to reach them. 

With Klaus Hargreeves, she’s having a bit of trouble finding a way. 

He came to the center just a few weeks ago after being picked up for prostitution. The charge breaks Abby’s heart, though she tries to avoid letting him see that. It’s a hell of a thing for a seventeen year old to have on his record. 

Every session she’s had with him has ended disastrously. He’s shouted at her, screamed at hallucinations, begged for drugs, even vomited to get out of going to the session. During this last one, he was quiet, but that extended into him not talking at all. There was a spacey look in his eyes and, though Abby can’t prove it, she’s sure he found some drugs somewhere. 

If she’s being honest, she’s been dreading this session all day. 

Klaus walks in and collapses into the chair, arms crossed. He’s chewing gum and rolling his eyes and basically fulfilling every rebellious teenager stereotype that exists. Abby knows it’s a defense mechanism and has seen hundreds of kids do it, but something about Klaus has her rolling her eyes right back. 

He nearly stops bouncing his leg in shock. 

“Dr. Abby?” he says, grinning. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“So what if I did, Klaus?” Abby responds, setting her clipboard on the table and leaning forwards. “What does it matter?”

“Well.” Klaus looks around in confusion. “I could tell on you.”

Abby gives him a curious expression. “To who?”

Klaus opens his mouth, looking victorious, then closes it, seemingly realizing something. 

“What were you going to say?” Abby asks. She purposely doesn’t pick up the clipboard, even when Klaus eyes it cautiously. 

“I was going to say Dad,” he admits. “Then I remembered I’m not at the Academy.”

“The Academy?” Abby prompts, hoping to have a real conversation for the first time.

Klaus just scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Or home, if you could call it that.”

“What do you mean?” Abby says.

Klaus just says. “My father is not a good man.” 

“What does that mean, Klaus?” says Abby, brow furrowed. “Let me help you.”

Klaus laughs bitterly. “There’s nothing you can do. Reginald’s too powerful and rich and.. I don’t know, respected? Besides, most of my siblings are out of the house already. It’s just me and Luther left.”

“Where are you siblings now?” Abby asks, latching onto another topic to keep the conversation going.

“Take your pick,” Klaus sighs. “Missing, dead, at college, pursuing a healthy, independent life without their fucked up siblings, on drugs.” With that last addition, te takes a sarcastic bow. “They all think I’m a fuck up and I am! But, they don’t get it!”

“What don’t they get?” Abby’s hand twitch for the clipboard and her pen, but she knows Klaus will stop talking if she reaches for it.

Klaus leans forward, a dark look coming over his face. “Do you know how many ways there are for a person to die?”

Abby sits back in shock. “W-What?”

“Not even I do,” Klaus continues. He brushes his hair out of his face, the simple action contrasting harshly with his words. “There’s the classic shooting, stabbing, drowning, falling, disease, car accidents, other types of accidents.” He crosses his legs in faux relaxation. “If you wanna go a little deeper, there’s hanging, overdoses, hypothermia, fire, smoke inhalation, even.” He pauses and looks at Abby. “I once met a guy who was tortured to death. He didn’t actually die until after they opened his chest up and poured bleach in.”

Staring at him, Abby stutters out a few broken syllables.

Klaus ignores her, leaning his head on his fist. “And that’s barely touching the sucide side of things. Of course, you can do most of that stuff to yourself, but there’s also cutting your wrists or jumping off a bridge or… I guess overdosing can be done on purpose too.”

“Klaus…”

“It’s hard to avoid thinking about it when you see everyday objects,” Klaus says, looking upwards, almost bored. “I walk into a room and twenty voices tell me how I could hang myself with a sheet off the curtain rod, if I did it right. Or that I could break a window and jump right out. Or!” Klaus gives her a grin that almost scares her more than the dark looks had. “That the nurse’s closet has just so many drugs in it. I could take them. Or I could put them in other people’s food, watch them overdose. The chairs in the day room are the right weight to hit someone with.” His face suddenly looks far off. “It gets kind of hard to ignore the thoughts because if I’ve thought about it, then so have twelve other people.”

Abby grabs her clipboard, which seems to break the spell. She hurriedly scribbles a few things down and gets up. 

“What’d you write?” Klaus looks genuinely curious. “I’m not suicidal, if that was it. There’s no real difference in being alive or dead. Why would I wanna die?”

Abby gives him a strained smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Klaus.” She turns to leave, barely stopping when he calls out to her.

“Do you know how many people die in rehab centers?” he asks. “It’s a lot. None of them are happy deaths.”

Abby has Klaus placed on suicide watch. She also suggests that he would do better in a group setting, rather than one-on-one

3

“They always regret it, you know,” says a voice to DJ’s left. He lets out a shriek as he almost tumbles over the edge. Steadying himself, he turns to find another man looking alarmed, hands out as if to catch DJ.

“What?” DJ says, incredulously. “How did you know I was up here?”

The man’s eyes dart quickly to the side, before he shrugs and says. “Just happened to be passing through.” He edges across the roof until he’s only a few steps from DJ, who is immediately overpowered by the smell of weed.

“Are you.. high?” he asks nervously, hand going up to rub the back of his neck before he catches himself. He doesn’t want to overbalance and fall before he’s ready.

The man shakes his head. “Regrettably, no.” His hands twitch and his eyes are blown wide, but DJ is inclined to believe him. “I’m Klaus, by the way.” He puts out a hand with an overly cheesy smile and DJ is taking it before he stops to think. 

Klaus yanks him right off the edge, sending them both sprawling onto the concrete.

“Hey!” DJ cries as he lands on top of Klaus, both of them groaning. “What gives, man?”

“I told you,” Klaus looks up and there’s something intense in his eyes that quiets DJ. “They always regret it.”

“What?” DJ asks quietly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He sits up and scratches his beard, but doesn’t go for the edge again. 

Klaus eyes him for a second before responding. “People who commit suicide. You’ll regret it.”

DJ rolls his eyes, almost disappointed. “If I wanted a self-help book, I’d go buy one.”

Klaus laughs loudly, head thrown back, shoulders shaking as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. “ _Me?_ A self-help speech? You’re talking to the most fucked up person in this city. Any advice I have, you don’t want.”

“The most fucked up?” DJ crosses his arms, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Wanna bet?”

“Sure!” Klaus chirps, surprisingly cheerful for the topic. “What’ve you got?”

“Hmm,” DJ sarcastically pretends to think, tapping his chin. “Let’s see. I had a mental breakdown that got me fired from both of my jobs. I can’t afford to go to college, so I was stuck working minimum wage anyway. I also can’t afford to move out of my parents’ place, but they’re both fucking difficult to live with and weren’t happy about me losing my job. My mom wasn’t happy about the mental breakdown either and keeps threatening to put me in the loony bin if I don’t shut up about it. I just know that if I go into a place like that, I’m not coming out.” He takes a deep breath as if he wasn’t breathing while he was talking. “What about you?”

Klaus blinks at him. “Sounds like you needed to get that off your chest.”

DJ waves his arms angrily. “No one listens to me! If I talk too much, they think I’m crazy. You probably think I’m crazy, even, and you’re just some junkie.” He roughly wipes at his eyes. “It’s not fair.” 

Klaus awkwardly pats at DJ’s arm. “It’ll be okay, buddy.”

“And how the fuck would you know?” DJ locks his jaw and stares Klaus down. “You don’t know my life.”

Klaus just stares at him, before letting his eyes drift almost idly to the side, face going slack. “Have you lost anyone recently?” Despite being only a foot or two away, his voice comes to DJ from very far away. He finds himself glancing behind him, despite knowing there’s nothing there but the edge of the roof. 

He turns back to Klaus, slightly alarmed. “Yeah…that’s what caused the mental breakdown. How’d you know that?”

“It was your friend,” Klaus says, eyes unfocused, head tilting to the side. “She has brown hair and beautiful brown eyes and she died wearing a pink dress.” He lets out a small, almost bitter laugh. “She wanted to look pretty when they found her body. I can sympathize with that.”

As Klaus talks, a shiver goes down DJ’s spine and he rubs his arms, heedless of the nearly 70 degree weather.

“How..? You…” DJ gasps out. “Are you stalking me or something?”

Klaus sits back upright and trains his eyes on DJ’s face. “She regrets it.”

“What?” Against his will, tears gather in DJ’s eyes. 

“Death isn’t what she thought it would be.” Klaus’s eyes start to cross and he slowly shrugs his shoulders. “It never is, but it’s worse for suicides. I think it’s partially the guilt.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “They always feel worse when someone they know finds their body.”

DJ rears back and pushes himself to his feet. “You’re crazy, man! You can’t bring Kaitlin into this.”

“She’s standing next to you,” Klaus says, stumbling to his feet, eyes wide with urgency. “She’s begging you to reconsider. She loves you. She doesn’t want you dead.”

“Stop it!” DJ turns and strides towards the door into the building.

“She’s crying and mascara is running down her cheeks, just like the blood is!” Klaus calls after him. “Please, D, reconsider!”

DJ stops in his tracks. He blinks and turns around, mouth opening in shock. “Why’d you call me D?”

Klaus stammers, surprised. “Um, that’s what she’s calling you.”

“Kaitlin’s the only one who ever called me that,” DJ says, slowly approaching Klaus again. “There’s no way you could know that.” He looks at the empty air where his friend supposedly was. “Can you really see her?”

Slowly, Klaus nods. He looks down at his feet. “You remember those umbrella academy kids?” 

“Yeah…” DJ says, gesturing for Klaus to continue. 

Klaus raises his hands, revealing ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodbye’ tattoos on his palms. “Nice to meet you. I’m the Séance.”

DJ just stares at him in disbelief, remembering the posters he had on his wall as a kid, remembering the odd, dark-haired boy the press called the Séance or Number Four or, every once in a while, Klaus. He remembers being thirteen and watching this boy accidentally come out on live television, remembers hoarding magazine pictures because if the _S_ _é_ _ance_ could be gay then who’s to say DJ can’t?

“Oh,” he says instead of all that. “You were my favorite.” 

DJ doesn’t commit suicide that night. Instead, he lets Klaus chatter to him as they walk down the stairs together. 

Klaus leaves him outside of a community center that offers free group therapy and crisis counseling. DJ watches Klaus disappear into the distance, hand gestures wild as he talks to someone DJ can’t see. 

He shakes his head and walks into the community center, but not before blowing a kiss to a friend who may or may not still be there.

4

Roger has never met anyone quite like Klaus Hargreeves. For one, the other man just sort of shows up one night with zero explanation of where he’s come from. He then proceeds to convince the notoriously crazy Sergeant that he isn’t a threat, despite his strange arrival and lack of basic training. 

The other soldiers in the 173rd don’t see Hargreeves’s entrance like Roger and (he’s pretty sure) Dave do. Hargreeves appears with a flash of blue light and a briefcase he never lets out of his sight. 

At first, Roger is suspicious. What if Hargreeves is some kind of spy, sent from the Charlies? He watches Hargreeves anxiously for days and notices nothing but some nightmares and reckless tendencies. The guy’s also a huge stoner, but who isn’t out here?

One night, Roger and Hargreeves are on night watch together for the first time. They’re chatting idly, unworried. It’s a quiet day that they don’t expect to be ruined. 

Hargreeves notices it first, though Roger isn’t sure what he notices.

“Uh, Roger?” Hargreeves says in a serious voice. He peers out into the trees and Roger follows his eyes. “We should probably get down.”

“What?” Roger says, though he’s already leaning down as the trees erupt with bullets. “What the fuck?!” 

Hargreeves grabs his arm and pulls him behind a nearby tree. He crouches, hands jerking up towards his ears before he pulls them down and firmly sets them on his gun. 

Roger peers out from behind the tree, scanning the forest for the gunmen. 

“There’s only one!” Hargreeves shouts over the gunshots. “He’s over to the left!”

Roger turns to the left incredulously and, sure enough, there’s only a singular Charlie shooting at them. He quickly takes aim and knocks the man out of his tree within a few shots. 

Hargreeves laughs breathlessly and leans back against the tree with relief. “Christ on a cracker, that was close!” He elbows Roger. “Good thing you’re a crackshot, huh?” He stumbles upright and slings his gun over his shoulder. “We should let them know what happened.”

“Yeah…” Roger gets to his feet and trails behind Hargreeves, brows furrowed. “How did you..?” 

Hargreeves turns to him innocently. “What?”

Roger stares at him in disbelief. “Hargreeves, that was fuckin’ spooky! How’d you know he was there?”

Hargreeves’s eyes dart to the side almost too quickly for Roger to notice. “Just a, uh, sixth sense, I guess?” He laughs awkwardly. “I don’t know, but as long as it was helpful, right?”

“Yeah.” Roger gives him a grin, shaking his head. “You’re alright, spook.”

Hargreeves screws up his face. “Spook?”

Roger punches him in the arm. “Everyone else has a nickname, don’t they?”

“Oh.” Hargreeves quiets. “What about Dave?” 

“What about him?” Roger says. They enter camp and head towards the Sergeant’s tent to report. 

“What’s his nickname?” Hargreeves asks. 

Roger just laughs. “Dave hasn’t done anything stupid yet. What’re we supposed to call him?” Hargreeves snorts and they enter the Sergeant’s tent.

Later, when Roger gleefully announces Hargreeves’s new nickname to a bar full of soldiers, everyone is eager to congratulate their newest member on joining their ranks. Hargreeves just grins, confused but excited. 

Dave, in particular, is happy to see Hargreeves getting some recognition. Roger hadn’t realized the two of them are close, but he’s glad Hargreeves has someone to keep him in line. 

And, if he sees something quiet and private later on that night, he knows how to keep his mouth shut. 

He doesn’t fully understand how Hargreeves knew about the Charlie until a few months later, when he’s standing next to a bed, staring at his own dead body. There’s a hole in his chest. 

_There’s a hole in his chest and he’s going to lose it._

Just as he starts hyperventilating, Hargreeves walks in, greets him, then does a double take. 

And it all makes sense. 

5

Allison has never been a big believer in ghosts. Sure, she knows Klaus sees them, but the idea that she’s constantly surrounded by spirits is one that belongs in a movie. It also makes her sad, thinking about death, so she usually avoids the thought. It’s just sometimes… harder to ignore. 

“Oh,” she says into the phone receiver. “Yeah, of course. I’m so sorry.” There’s a pause as the other person talks. 

“No, I can be on a flight tonight,” Allison replies. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about anything. Just be with your family.” Another pause. “Okay, goodnight.” She hangs up the phone with a click and sighs, leaning back against the wall. 

“Bad news?” asks Vanya from across the room where she’s making coffee. 

Allison takes a deep breath and walks into the kitchen proper, gratefully accepting the cup her sister hands her.

“My assistant’s mother just passed away,” she says sadly. “He was just letting me know that he’s going to be out of contact for a little bit.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Vanya says, frowning. “I hope they’re doing okay.”

“I’ll send a sympathy card as soon as I’m back in LA,” Allison replies with a small smile. “Just to let them know I’m thinking of them.”

“Thinking of who?” 

Allison spins around, surprised that Klaus managed to sneak up on her. Even Vanya looks startled, which is hard to achieve. 

Klaus leans against the staircase banister, wearing some brightly colored outfit accompanied by his ever-present dog tags. Allison still hasn’t gotten the full story of those, but they’ve been around his neck since before they averted the Apocalypse months ago. She makes a mental note to ask.

“Oh, uh,” she belatedly responds. “My assistant’s… mother died. I’m going to send the family a card.”

“Ah,” Klaus says, swanning over to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup. He settles into the chair across from Allison, legs pulled up to his chest.

“It’s sad,” Allison says, turning back to Vanya. “But, apparently she was struggling with her illness for a few years now, so she’s in a better place.” Vanya nods with a sad hum, but Klaus…

Klaus snorts.

Allison looks at him in disbelief. “Klaus?”

“Oh, sorry,” Klaus says, glancing up at her with a smile. “It’s just funny, to think of death as a better place.”

Allison exchanges a weirded out look with Vanya. “Uh, what?”

“Well,” Klaus responds, sitting up and settling into full lecture mode. “There’s the whole ghost situation.”

“Ghost situation?” Vanya asks, cupping her mug with both hands. 

“Yeah!” Klaus takes a sip of coffee. “If you die unsatisfied with your life, you become a ghost.” He wiggles his fingers in Allison’s face. “Ooh, spooky!” 

Allison swats them away. “Well, what if you’re happy with your life? Wouldn’t you just pass on?”

Klaus shrugs. “Yeah, sort of.” 

Vanya bites her lip. “Do you… do you _know_ what comes after? Do ghosts know? Could you ask?”

Klaus waves off the question. “Course I know! I’ve been there. It’s weird.”

Allison nearly chokes on her tongue. “Wait, you’ve been there? Like to Heaven or what?”

“There’s not really a Heaven like you’d imagine it,” Klaus says, getting serious. “It’s more like a waiting area. Like Purgatory.” He rests his head in his hand with a far off expression on his face. “It’s very muted there, like all the light’s been sucked out of the world. Creepy.”

“When did you go there, Klaus?” Allison asks, alarmed. “What happened?”

“It’s not important,” Klaus says, scratching at the back of his head. When Allison looks ready to argue, he corrects himself. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Vanya just stares at him, concerned, as Klaus continues talking. 

“But, yeah, ghosts are from people with unfinished business,” Klaus says. “That’s including violent deaths, by the way. That’s what most ghosts are from.”

“What, there’s no ghosts that died peacefully?” asks Allison. 

Klaus scoffs. “Oh, I wish there were some peaceful deaths! Maybe they wouldn’t look so gross.”

“Gross?” Vanya prompts. Klaus looks up from where he was stirring his coffee. 

“Oh, yeah,” he gets quiet. “You don’t really wanna know. There’s a reason I only ever manifest Ben for you guys. You don’t need to watch someone try to strangle me with their intestines.” He laughs awkwardly. “Anyway, any more questions before I skedaddle?”

“Uhhh,” Allison says, trying to push past the horror that image conveys. 

“Do you think there’s any sort of higher beings?” asks Vanya, blushing when Allison turns to look at her. “I’m agnostic! I’ve always wondered.”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “God’s a bitch who doesn’t like me, but yeah. There’s some higher beings.” He wrinkles his face and leans back to look up at the ceiling, missing his sisters’ wide eyes. “Or at least one.”

“Uhh,” Allison starts.

Klaus’s head snaps towards the door. “Yeah?” He goes silent as, presumably, someone responds. “Oh, cool.”

“I have to go, mes soeurs!” He mockingly bows to them. “Please, let me know if you have any other burning questions about the afterlife. It’s my only area of expertise, unfortunately.” 

He sweeps out of the room, leaving two shocked women behind. 

“I feel like this isn’t something people are supposed to know,” Vanya says faintly. Allison just nods in response and silently vows to block it out.

+1

Since Klaus is both sober and living in the Academy again, he has to deal with childhood memories and urges returning. He can’t tell if they’re just something he likes, or a way to cope with returning trauma, or what, but Klaus finds himself crawling under his bed to pull out his box of candles either way. 

He sets them up around the room and pulls his old lighter out from a drawer, surprised to find it still working. He sets his record player up and sways gently as he begins lighting the candles. 

Klaus is lighting the fifth one when Diego knocks on his door. 

“Hey, bro,” he says, opening the door without hesitation. “Are you..?” He looks around, brow furrowed. “You trying to burn the house down or something?”

Klaus laughs and continues lighting candles. “It’s for the ambiance, my dear brother.”

Diego ventures further into the room to sit on Klaus’s bed. “It looks like you’re trying to summon a demon.”

“Who says I’m not?”

“Klaus,” Diego groans as his brother snickers. “I know you’re joking, but just in case, please don’t summon demons.”

Klaus mock gasps, unable to keep a straight face. “I can’t believe you would doubt my ability to make smart decisions.”

Diego gives him a disbelieving look and Klaus nearly doubles over in laughter. Diego rolls his eyes, but joins in.

“Seriously, though, what are you doing?” Diego asks once they’ve calmed down. “It’s kinda creepy in here.”

“Practicing my powers,” Klaus answers offhandedly, pulling the pillows and blankets off his bed into a pile on the floor, forcing Diego to move. 

Diego grumbles, but moves towards the door. “Why the candles and pillows?”

“The candles are really for ambiance,” Klaus responds. “It’s easier to get into the right head space when it’s dark, plus the fire helps. It’s hard to explain how.” He slows in arranging the pillows. “It keeps me from floating too far away. That’s why dad bought me so many when we were younger.”

“I did wonder about that,” says Diego, settling back on the now bare bed. “And the pillows?” 

“Oh, I’ve been floating,” Klaus says in a faux casual voice, not looking at his brother. 

“Sorry, you’ve been _what_?” Diego says incredulously. When Klaus doesn’t respond, he leans forward and slaps at his shoulder. “What the fuck?”

Klaus winces. “Yeah, I don’t know. It’s a new thing. Ben says it looks creepy.”

“Can I watch?” asks Diego quietly, expecting Klaus to refuse. Every meditation session he’s had recently has been by himself as he searches for Dave. Diego’s pretty sure he’s the only one who knows Klaus is meditating again at all.

Klaus looks at him for a long moment before nodding in agreement. He finishes arranging the pillows and gets up to close the door, turning the lights off while he’s up. Diego has to agree that the ambiance is more fitting with the candles. They cast the room in a fuzzy glow, making it the corners seem much farther away, cast in shadows as they are.

Klaus sits down in the center of the floor, on top of a fluffy blanket. He puts his hands on his knees and closes his eyes, and for a moment, nothing happens. 

The music cuts out, first. Diego turns, startled, to see that the record is still spinning, but no music is coming out. He looks back to Klaus, a question on his lips, only to find his brother floating about a foot above the ground.

“What the fuck,” Diego whispers forcefully. 

Klaus’s eyes open and they’re entirely white, as if they’re rolled back in his head, and practically glowing in the candlelight. 

A hush falls over the room. There’s no wind, but somehow every candle goes out at once. Diego jumps and stares at Klaus, whose eyes are still somehow reflecting light. 

Klaus freezes, hovering in the air, barely even breathing, for the next few minutes, during which time, Diego is too nervous to even move. 

Klaus blinks and his eyes are normal again. He blinks again and they’re white. They flicker between these two states until Klaus slams down into the ground and inhales loudly. He releases it shakily and opens his eyes, blinking up at Diego. 

He lets himself fall backwards onto the pillows with a breathless laugh, hands coming up to cover his face. 

Diego leans forward cautiously. “You okay, man?” 

Klaus gives him a weak thumbs up, laughter starting to sound more like crying. Diego moves to kneel next to his brother, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Klaus, what happened?”

Klaus moves his hands and looks up at Diego tearfully. “I saw him, Di. He was so close, but I woke up before I could reach him.” He lets out a sob and Diego pulls him into a hug. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” Diego rubs Klaus’s back. “You can try again tomorrow. You’ll get there. You just have to be patient.”

Klaus makes a frustrated noise into Diego’s shoulder and rears back, angrily wiping his nose. “I don’t _want_ to be patient! I just wanna see Dave.” He dissolves into tears again and Diego yanks him back in.

Eventually, Klaus cries himself out and Diego feels comfortable leaning back to grab a box of tissues. He hands his brother one and Klaus loudly blows his nose.

“Your little light show really scared the shit out of me,” Diego says lightly, handing Klaus another tissue. Klaus crumples up his previous one and takes it. 

He looks up at Diego, kind of pathetically. “Really?” 

Diego reaches out to ruffle Klaus’s hair, feeling vaguely like they were twelve again. “Yeah, it was some creepy shit. You blew the candles out!”

“Did I?” Klaus scans the room with wide eyes, realizing that every single candle he lit was out, smoke curling near the ceiling. “I’m pretty badass, aren’t I?”

“More like spooky,” Diego replies, getting to his feet. The smile slips off of Klaus’s face for a moment, before it’s back and he’s allowing Diego to pull him upright.

“Oh, wait until you see me on Halloween,” Klaus says. “You’re gonna shit yourself.”


End file.
